Chapter Nineteen
The declaration and kiss were unexpected but sweet, a balm to a soul that still carried bruises. With her arm tucked into Elias’, Laura snuggled in, staying close to his warmth and remaining in the shelter of the umbrella. It was an embrace of sorts.
Perhaps, it would be all right after all. She allowed herself to imagine a future – one with a child and a man who loved her at her side. She thought it possible to be content – after all, she knew enough of the world to appreciate that, even back home in England, not every marriage was a love match.
She took a deep breath, scenting the rich, earthy odor of damp soil in the sodden landscape. At this moment, none of the finest perfumes or colognes could smell as sweet.
Soon, they were at the vestibule just outside the kitchen door. The spell woven through her imagination didn’t break. Elias’ arm through hers felt solid and comforting. She turned and looked at him and, before she could catch herself, ran her hands along his forearms, feeling the muscle and sinew honed by hard labor.
He remained as still as a statue, his caramel-colored eyes focused on hers, the slight furrow to his brow an unasked question. Even if he had asked, she would not have been able to answer it. His eyes wandered from hers down to her lips and they parted in anticipation of another touch.
But, instead, he took her hands in his and kissed them.
“I think it’s time to say good night,” he said. “I’m no fit company for a lady looking like this.”
She hadn’t noticed his sweat-stained clothes, nor the darkness under his eyes that spoke eloquently of his weariness. He propped the dripping umbrella against the doorframe. With a gentle hand, he urged Laura into the kitchen, now in semi-darkness since Serafina had served the main meal hours ago. She walked over to the door that led into the house itself, then realized he did not follow.
A slight thrum of disappointment filled her as she realized she wanted nothing so much as for him to escort her to her bedroom door. But he stood at the wooden table in the center of the kitchen, his face in shadow – another disappointment.
“Good night, Laura.”
He stood still until he had almost blended into the darkness and was lost to her once more.
*
Laura started awake to the sound of a scream that echoed in heart-breaking terror through the silence. Her heart pounded. Al-Min!
She grew used to the gloom and recognized her bedroom at Arcadia, partly lit by the light that seeped under the unlocked door.
The scream came again. Beneath it was the sound of movement in the house and other voices. Serafina called out commands like a general, and there was an indistinct male voice – it might have been Elias, but equally it could be Kit who arrived a week ago with Sophia.
Laura rolled awkwardly to a sitting up position just as there was a knock on the door.
“Laura, are you awake?” It was Sophia.
Laura hunted on her bed for a wrapper as Sophia entered. Her cousin was fully dressed, a long, black braid draped across her shoulder.
“It’s time. Gina’s baby will be here soon.”
Laura shoved goosebump-covered arms into her sleeves. “Are you going to help?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
“I rather thought I should since I’ve never delivered a baby before and I’m here to help you deliver yours.” The amusement in Sophia’s answer ebbed with her next words. “I think you should be there, too.”
“I don’t know what to do either; what use will I be?” Laura protested.
Sophia hesitated. “I thought at least if you saw another woman giving birth, you would know what to expect.”
Laura hadn’t given it a thought before, but now there was no putting off the moment for either of them. She struggled to her feet and winced at another scream and a long groan of travail that followed.
Now dressed, Laura followed Sophia into Gina’s bedroom. The heat from the fire and a tang of sweat hit her bodily. Gina lay on the bed, legs spread, raised knees wide apart. Her face was red and contorted like a newborn’s, but the hand that clutched one of the other farm girl’s hands was bloodless white from the grip.
At the foot of the bed, Serafina peered between Gina’s open thighs. Laura was bumped aside as Sophia skirted past to take hold of Gina’s other hand.
A keening wail that did not seem like it could come from a human throat rose from Gina until it drowned even the sound of Serafina’s constant admonishments to push. Laura wanted to move away but she couldn’t; she was fixed to the spot just over the housekeeper’s shoulder and stared as the baby’s head started to crown.
Laura’s stomach roiled and her head spun. As much as her mind screamed to leave this place, her body would not respond.
“Push! Push! Not long now. Not long now.”
Serafina’s urging was constant and Laura found herself whispering it, too, like a mantra.
With one last, long groan from Gina, something red and slick emerged between her thighs. It was the baby’s head. Serafina wiped the gore away and Laura could see a fully-formed face. She grew aware that the housekeeper had paused, the expression on her face altering – hardening.
The older woman urged Gina to push once again. The atmosphere in the room, already charged, now changed.
A glance to Sophia told Laura that she recognized the sudden change in mood, but the furrow in her brow suggested she didn’t know the cause of it yet. Laura was afraid that she did. What little she knew about birth was that babies were supposed to cry after being born.
This one didn’t.
*
Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, a time of celebration. But here, one infant was mourned, one infant celebrated, and one infant was yet to be born.
Laura stared at the wooden carved nativity scene displayed in the sitting room. The Virgin Mary, her robes painted a serene blue, bowed her head over the beatific face of her child in his crib lined with straw. How remarkable.
What did Mary think as she gave birth in a stable? Did she fear? Did she suffer the birthing pains like other women? How did she feel about her son?
She picked up the carved image of the child, simply rendered in swaddling clothes. The icon fit in the palm of her hand, about half the size of the one born two days before, the one that never got to open her eyes or draw breath. The image of the Christ child before her blurred. She blinked away the tears. A miracle of life; a miracle of the hope of the life to come. She returned the figure to the display with reverence before rising on unsteady legs.
The Christmas tableau was decorated with ribbons and greenery, and surrounded by candles to form a sort of shrine. The gaily festive display was at sharp odds with the black she wore for Gina’s child.
She tightened the shawl around her shoulders even though the villa was warm against the cold, blustery winds that had sprung up overnight. The entire day was grey from the leaden sky to the ash-colored clouds of fog that isolated them from the rest of the world.
Laura peered through the closed French doors and touched a finger to the freezing glass as though to reach the distant clutch of people outside who were framed in one of the panes. They, too, were all dressed in black, the figures familiar. Gina stood with her head bent, her shoulders shaking in paroxysms of grief. Serafina stood on one side and Elias on the other. The silhouettes of the other mourners blended into one, but Laura knew Sophia and Kit were there also.
She wanted to be out there, too. But she had not felt well this morning, and everyone insisted she remain indoors for her baby’s sake, as well as her own. From her vantage point, she looked down to one of the southeastern gardens to see the small, newly-constructed, pine coffin – its pale yellow color stark against the black of the mourners – being lowered into the ground.
She swallowed and touched her own stomach to reassure herself the baby inside was still active. She was. And Laura nearly wept with relief and shame that she should be glad of it, while another woman was left bereft.
The party of mourners broke up and a couple of men began to fill in the grave. Laura looked for Elias among the returning group. The need to see him and have him close now seemed acute. It was he, even more than Sophia, who could reassure her.
*
January 6
“Still can’t sleep?”
Laura started at the voice, but it distracted her from the ache in her lower back, which was a help.
Elias stood in the doorway.
“Someone is keeping me awake,” she said, keeping up her pacing up and down the terrace now shuttered against the cold of the evening.
“May I keep you company?”
Laura gave him a sharp look, then sighed. Perhaps having someone to talk to would distract her long enough for ache to go away.
“If you want.”
“Shall I find my guitar and play for you?”
Laura shook her head wearily. “Just talk to me.”
“About anything in particular?”
Laura started to shake her head, then stopped.
“Tell me how a Scottish Methodist gets so far from home.”
There was only the soft rasp of her slippers as she continued pacing up and down, past the day bed, the mismatched iron chairs, and the round timber table that looked like had been cobbled together from long-weathered planks.
She paced up and down two more times.
“Well?” Being tired made her irritable.
Elias shrugged.
“I was twenty-one years old and filled with youthful exuberance. My aunt and I went to hear William Wilberforce talk about translating the Bible into every language, starting with Welsh,” he said.
“Afterwards, I spoke to him about his abolitionist work and someone else mentioned an Algerian tribe that didn’t even have a written version of their own language. Before I knew it, I was part of a group of a dozen men and women ready to set sail for Africa.”
Laura stopped her pacing as the ache shifted position from her back to her belly. Elias was now beside her with one hand on her elbow, the other on the small of her back, urging her toward the day bed.
She allowed him to help her find a comfortable position on her side. She closed her eyes as she felt him sit on the bed beside her. At a tentative touch on her back, Elias whispered, “May I?”
She hummed an affirmative response and he rubbed gentle circles that helped ease the worst of the ache. She breathed in the fresh pine and lemon of his scent and willed herself to relax.
This was Elias, her knight in shining armor, the man she was tempted to believe when he said he loved her – not because he said the words, but for everything he did. She realized it had taken months before she felt confident enough to look at a man directly in the eye again, let alone to let one touch her.
“Don’t stop,” she said, aware her voice was sleepy.
“I won’t.”
“No, I mean don’t stop talking to me. What happened next?”
He told her about their voyage to Algeria. In their first week there, the group was set upon by bandits, and they had only just escaped thanks to the arrival of a group of Bedouins.
Finally introduced to the tribe, they were welcomed but the language barrier proved nearly insurmountable. Nonetheless, Elias spent his days with the men, learning their customs and their language until he was confident enough to begin sharing the rudiments of the Gospel.
Then disaster struck. A flood devastated the village, killing four of the local families. In the aftermath, four of the missionaries suffered severe dysentery. Soon, they had the most disheartening news of all, a supply ship with food and funds had been captured by Barbary Coast pirates.
After his small progress in codifying the language, Elias woke one morning to find the village nearly deserted. Everyone had packed up and left for their annual migratory trek with their livestock, harvesting frankincense from the trees along the way. They would not return for at least six months, perhaps longer.
At a loss, the missionaries returned to the coastal port but disease killed three of them, and the survivors were forced to journey to Sicily to seek medical treatment for another of their party, a middle-aged spinster. There, the woman’s condition worsened and the doctor would only allow her to travel home in the company of a nurse.
The mission trip was an abject failure and, without additional funds, they couldn’t afford to stay. As it was, they could barely scrape together enough funds for a passage home.
“So I made the decision to stay behind so they could afford the nurse,” he said and paused.
Silence stretched on. Elias, apparently deciding she had fallen asleep, removed his hand and Laura felt him shift beside her.
“What, on your own?” she murmured.
He correctly took that as a cue to continue with the back rub.
“I was young and strong, and had enough for a bed and meal for the first night. I figured the next day I’d go down to the docks and find a ship that would allow me to work passage back to England. So, this particular night, I prayed for a miracle.”
“What happened?”
Elias chuckled. “I took a room at a tavern and got into a fight.”
“That doesn’t sound like a miracle.”
“Ah, but it was.”
She felt him squeeze her shoulder and nearly wept at the easy normalness of the gesture. This was so nice. She had been told that tears would spring easily during pregnancy. Perhaps that accounted for her mood.
“I was warming myself by the fire downstairs when an argument broke out between two men. Apparently, a barmaid had an unrequited affection for this sandy-haired fellow which didn’t sit well with another man who happened to be quite a deal bigger. They came to blows. Everyone in the place watched this smaller chap duck a punch from the giant then fell him with a blow to the stomach. Then the big man’s friend stepped up. I thought this young man seemed well able to take care of himself against two, but three more of the jilted lover’s friends decided to join in. Well, no one else in the tavern moved to take this young man’s side. It struck me as very unsporting.”
“Unsporting? Going around punching people seems very unsporting to me.”
“Not when it’s done with principle and honor. Ganging up on someone because of a slight to one’s pride is not honorable.”
“Oh,” she said, drawing out the syllable. There were times when Elias was a little too serious. Now he picked up on her tease.
“Yes, oh.” She could hear the smile in his voice and it warmed her further. “I stepped in to stop the chap getting rabbit punched and, before we knew it, we’d dealt with all five of them. Then the landlord threw us out, and I’d already paid for my bed.”
“Well, that was a strange answer to a prayer.”
“I thought the same thing at the time. But do you know who the sandy-haired man was?”
“Should I?”
“It was Christopher John Hardacre.” Elias dropped his voice to an exaggerated stage whisper. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Kit has a habit of drawing attention to himself.”
Laura burst into laughter, then softened her amusement to a chuckle to avoid waking the house.
“I had noticed. Before they married, Sophia once called him a Narcissus.”
“Well, that’s as a good a description as any I’ve heard.”
Silence fell between them. He continued rubbing her back and Laura closed her eyes. Elias spoke again, softly. “Kit has had a very troubled past but he is a good man. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course, why do you ask?”
“I remember something you said to me on the Calliope soon after we left Al-Min. I’ve been Kit’s friend for more than eight years now. He loves Sophia very much. I’ve seen the change in him, he’s… happy. He has found himself. If you had known Kit the way he was before, you’d never believe he was the same man. Still, if anyone could understand the hell you’ve been through, it would be him. Sometimes I wonder whether spending the rest of your confinement with Sophia and Kit on Catallus would have been better than being here with me.”
Laura rolled and pushed herself up to the top of the day bed to sit up. She reached out for Elias’ hand. He took it.
“You’ve been so kind to me, I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” she said. “You’ve given me time to think, you’ve never treated me like a worthless whore or a fragile doll. I—”
The abdominal pain was the worst she’d ever felt. She gripped Elias’ hand tight.
“Laura?”
She let out a whoosh of air.
“Is it time?”
Another pain, this one equally as bad as the previous struck her. All she could do was nod.
“Serafina!”
Laura kept her eyes closed tight and prepared herself for the next wave of pain. She heard Serafina’s shuffling feet and Elias’ instruction. Wake Sophia, boil water, prepare Laura’s room for birthing.
Oh God, oh God – the baby was on its way!